


emotional support dumbass

by alivealivealive



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz is just nervous, Domestic Fluff, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Friday class, M/M, No Angst, Post-Canon, Presentation, Simon thinks Baz is pretty, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, University, basically just fluff, they're so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 13:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18152405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alivealivealive/pseuds/alivealivealive
Summary: In which Baz is nervous as hell to give his first presentation at LSE and Simon is an amazing boyfriend. Fluffly one-shot.Or, in which Simon is Baz’s emotional support dumbass in class.Inspired by one of @incrrectsnowbaz’s tweets!





	emotional support dumbass

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! This is my first attempt at writing a One-Shot.
> 
> Basically, I saw one of @incrrectsnowbaz’s tweets using the title phrase and started wondering if they'd ever support each other if they were in different careers. And the answer is always yes!!
> 
> I hope this isn't too bad, but I enjoyed writing this so so much!!! I'm a sucker for domestic Snowbaz!!
> 
> Please check out @incrrectsnowbaz’s tweets! They're so funny and spot on!! I asked for their permission to write this one-shot and they were really nice! thank you x

#####  Baz 

Today is the first time I’m giving a presentation at University. It’s so different from the ones I got to give at Watford because I already had a name there. People respected me either for my grades or for just having the name Pitch attached to me. Magic is also something that’s practically written in my DNA. There’s no way I could not give a perfect presentation about the thing that means the most in the world to me. Actually, it’s the second thing. To be fair, Simon’s the first one.

And I never fell short of the mark when it came to school work. Simon says I’m just too pretentious, but the truth is that I love learning. Learning is one of the only things that keep me hungry all the time. If something is interesting, I need to read everything there is related to it, and in that way, Bunce and I are just the same.

There’s not a feeling quite like acing an exam or killing it in a presentation. That’s the reason why I’ve been preparing these slides for a week now. We were assigned topics at the beginning of the semester, but since my last name starts with a “G”, we’re well into October when my turn comes.

I think Snow must really like me because he’s heard me talk about economic models for a week now. He sat there, drinking tea while I rehearsed in their living room for half an hour, taking the time to ask questions as if he was another student at my class. Which he clearly isn’t. My major and his don’t even relate a bit. (He’s doing biology. The ridiculously smart git.). I swear the moment I leave that lecture hall I’m taking him straight to dinner.

Sometimes I’m so into work I forget to eat, and he always comes through, distracting me enough with his pouting that I end up eating with him on the living room couch. Most nights he’ll bring me tea before he falls asleep, or he’ll set his own alarm, so he can wake me up before my exams. I’m terrible at waking up. Whenever I have an exam I just sleep over the night before, because I tend to _not_ hear the alarm going off. Or when he notices I’ve had a bad day, he goes over to our favourite coffee shop and brings me my custom drink. (He wrote down the recipe in his notes app.) (I love him for that.)

It’s just so great. I never thought I’d get the domesticity of being in a real relationship. The most I aspired to was to marry someone to please Father, and then pretend I wasn’t still in love with him, so. I’d almost dare to say he’s my emotional support. I haven’t started therapy like I said a would, but he has. And he’s doing really well. 

Which is why I wish he’d come. But I’d never ask him out loud. For starters, I don’t even think he’s even allowed to be at LSE, because he doesn’t even study here. And I’m not going to ask him to spend his Friday afternoon taking a class he’s not even in.

I’m getting my coat on when he comes up behind me, already dressed for the morning.

“What time is your presentation, love?”

My heart still races (if it beats) when he calls me ‘love’. It’s like a fucking verse coming out of his lips. I run my hand through his bronze curls, pushing them off his face. “It’s at five. I’ll pick you up at seven or so, to grab dinner.”

He leans against the wall, zipping his leather jacket. “Yeah, okay.” He flashes me a mischievous grin. “You’ll kill it. As usual.”

“Obviously, Snow. When have I ever not?”

I’m actually close to vomiting, but I know he sees through my bullshit, so it’s fine to pretend for a little.

“I’d believe you if your hands weren’t shaking. But it’s alright, you’ll be flawless.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, “I know.”

I blush, and then I pull him in to kiss him goodbye. He wraps his arms around my middle, snaking his hands under my coat. His kiss is calm and sweet, and for a while, I forget why I’ve been so nervous in the beginning. It’s alright. If I bomb it, I’m still coming home to Snow. It’s not like he’s going to drop me if I’m not brilliant once.

He breaks apart and stares at me for a second, and then his voice goes all breathy when he says, “You’re actually perfect.”

#####  Simon 

Sometimes I’m so sure I’m dreaming when I think about the fact that I’m dating Baz. It took me forever to realise he was in it for real. That it was no plot, no charity work for him to stay with me after I became…Normal. But he’s put so much of himself into this relationship It’d be offensive not to believe him when he says he loves me.

Which is why I try to make sure he knows this. And because I’m shit with words, I try to show him with my actions that I care. It's also why I’m on the tube on a Friday afternoon, after rushing out of my own lecture to get to his. I’ve still got plenty of time, but I don’t want to be late and interrupt him or be late and not be allowed to enter at all.

I manage to get in six minutes before the class starts, most of the lecture hall already filled up with students. I try to find a seat without him noticing me. There must be around eighty students or so in this class, so I find a seat to the left side, near where the Professor’s desk is, and pray they don’t notice I’m not actually in this class.

Finding this hall was more or less easy. We exchanged class schedules before the semester started, so I sort of knew what the name of the lecture hall was, and then I asked around until I got here.

He’s already connected his laptop to the projector and is talking to the Professor who’s sitting at his desk. I look down to try to hide my face a little, in case he scans the crowd before beginning. Baz is literally the fittest guy I’ve ever met. That’s not even an exaggeration. I even got Penelope to admit it once in a drinking game.

“You’re just trying to make yourself look good by saying you’re sleeping with someone as good looking as Basilton is.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, but isn’t he the Agatha of boys?”

She rolled her eyes this time. “I’ll allow it. He’s good looking.” She started giggling this time, covering her mouth, “And you managed to date them both. Incredible.”

Baz cleared his throat. “I’m still here, Bunce.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed my favourite spot, right where his neck stops above his right collarbone.

Anyway, he’s wearing dark blue trousers and a white shirt. But it’s not any white shirt. It’s just like Baz to have basic clothes that are so expensive they have some sort of special fit and detailing. It’s got the smallest, almost insignificant pattern to it, also in dark blue. It goes so well with his skin. I still haven’t managed to crack the mystery on who tailors his pants in a way where they’re not too tight or so loose that his lean legs lose their shape. And his backside looks good enough to make me want to rebel against my mentor and date my mortal enemy again.

They dim the lights of the hall, and he stands in front of his slides. I’ve seen them like ten times already, but I’m still sweating for him. I’m not worried he’s going to forget what he’s presenting, but I do understand where his nerves came from. My classmates know perfectly I’m a blubbering mess whenever I have to teach a class. He's amazingly graceful, all good posture and controlled moves.

He says his full name, Tyrannus included and I lift both of my eyebrows. I thought he’d do it as he used to at Watford. He used to start with “I’m Baz Pitch”, and that was that, but it makes sense he’s a lot more formal now.

He starts with a little bit of history, which I’ve now memorized although it’s completely useless information for me, but still. What's the thing they say about repetition?

His voice is confident, his incredibly posh accent shining through. It took me forever to accept the fact that I love the elegant part about him quite a bit. I used to hate it when I used to _think_ I hated him altogether. But the way he pronounces words and uses fancy terms to get his point across when he’s focused like this never fails to make me gasp a little.

He pulls back to scan the auditorium as he points to his slide with the pointer. I see it in his eyes the exact moment he sees me. His cheeks go a little pink, but he doesn’t stutter at all, just flips his hair back slightly and then gives me the smallest nod ever. I wink at him.

He continues as I rest my chin on my palm, elbow propped up on the armrest like a lovesick puppy, watching every move. His shoulders are a lot more relaxed now, and his voice isn’t as tense as it was when he started. He sounds like _he’s the Professor._ The tosser is even giving extra info, different things from what we had practised before, so I’m sure all of these extras are coming straight from his brain.

##### Baz 

I can’t believe he showed up.

And I didn’t ask him to.

He’s relaxed, drinking his coffee (black, disgusting) while I get more and more relaxed as I watch him out of the corner of my eye. Before I’ve even noticed, I’m giving out my personal conclusions. 

When I’m done, the Professor stands up and gives Simon a look. _Fuck._ He doesn’t say anything, though. He just asks me the mandatory five questions about the topic to complete my mark, which of course, I’m prepared for. I’m practically jumping out of my skin when he calls me to his desk at the end to sign my final grade in the presentation.

The auditorium is empty now, so I’m sure Snow is already waiting outside. 

He slides the grade sheet at me, “Nicely done, Basilton. One of the best I’ve seen on this topic.”

I nod my head and look down at it. 15/15 points. There’s five for the slides content, five for the oral presentation on itself and five for each final question. “Thank you so much, Professor.”

I sign my full name and then write the date on the line assigned for it. I pick my pen up and slide my laptop into my bag. As I’m turning to leave, he clears his throat.

“Who came to see you?”

I frown. “Nobody, um. I don’t quite follow.”

The professor, a middle-aged traditional British Man, lifts his eyebrow at me. “I saw you glancing around to this side.” He points right at where Simon was sitting a few minutes ago.

“Oh, um. That’s my emotional support du-“

I realise what I’m saying and stop myself from finishing the word “dumbass.” It’s kind of a running joke between Simon and I. He says I’m _his_ emotional support vampire. 

“Don’t you worry, Basilton. I was young once. And in love too, if you must know.”

I nod because I don’t know what the fuck to say back. “Now, go on. He must be waiting for you, and I’m getting all reminiscent here.”

“Thank you, Mr. Brown. Have a good weekend.”

“You too, Mr. Pitch. Go celebrate that perfect score.”

I nod and then I’m practically running out of the hall. Simon catches my arm before I pass him and kisses my cheek quickly. “That was brilliant, you bloody tosser.”

I grab his hand and start walking toward the parking lot. “You didn’t notice when I got stuck in the middle?”

He shakes his head quickly and squeezes my hand. “Not at all. I was staring at your pretty face, though. How much did you get?”

I blush and lift an eyebrow, “Fifteen out of fifteen. You’re crazy, Snow.”

“I know.”

We run to the car because it’s raining heavily, the cold rain soaking my hair. Once we’re in the safety of the Jag, I turn to look at him.

He’s fiddling with his coat’s buttons. “I love that you came. I didn’t expect it at all.”

He looks at me and runs his hand over mine, “I didn’t know you’d like it. But I wanted to see the real deal.”

“Thank you. It was easier after I saw you there. Almost like we were back at Watford.”

He gives me a shy smile. “I’m glad I was of use.”

“Shut up. Honestly, Snow, you’re my emotional support.”

He kisses me quickly, just for a second and then leans back into his seat. He reaches behind to grab the seatbelt. The rain is hitting the car roof hard, and it’s almost impossible to see out of the car’s windows. But I have supernatural vision, so.

“So, no dumbass?”

I giggle. He makes me giggle so often now that I forget what it was like to try to restrain myself from laughing before. “I was trying to be romantic.”

He clears his throat before saying, “You are,” I click in my own seatbelt and put the car into first gear. He continues, “Now, how about some Indian for your recently expert in economic models’ boyfriend?”

“You wish you were, Snow.”

He laughs, a loud, boyish laugh. When he’s quiet again, as I’m pulling out of my parking spot, I wink at him as I say, “I’m buying tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this ball of fluff! I wrote this instead of studying lol!
> 
> I'm sorry if I butchered some of the grammar, but English isn't my first language hahaha!! Also, I don't know anything about economics, but I tried to make it seem believable!
> 
> As usual, thank you so much for the kudos and lovely comments!! 
> 
> Now back to writing "a trip across the pond" x
> 
> Lots of love,  
> -MP


End file.
